


Psyche of a Monster

by spicycronch



Category: The Property of Hate
Genre: Disembowlment, F/F, Families of Choice, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Light Entertainment, M/M, Temporary Character Death, The Author Regrets Everything, Tragedy, kind of, language of the flowers, references to plays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-03-15 19:15:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13619937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicycronch/pseuds/spicycronch
Summary: Maybe he should have stayed alone.An Eros and Psyche AU





	1. Nyx

**Author's Note:**

> I love this fandom, but it's so small. Other than that though, let's see how many references I can sneak into this.

  Roy didn’t mind being alone. In all honesty (and he was  _ such _ an honest man), he could say that he was never truly lonely. Roy had friends. He made his living by weaving stories of legendary heroes and entertaining children. There was little else he could do, and the blond attracted attention wherever he went. Roy was different. He had a square jaw and pale skin that burnt every summer and failed to tan each time. Were it not for his profession, he would have been considered a disappointment. He was not strong. He could not swim. His voice cracked and stuttered when he wasn't telling a story or singing a ballad, and to top it all off, he was foreign. Nonetheless, he had the village and Hero.

 

  Roy loved her like a niece. Hero would collect bugs in the spring, lazily tan in the summer, and listen earnestly in the fall. She loved the legends of gods and heroes, so much so that Roy called her by what she had wanted so much to become. She was his hero. Roy had always been a coward. He was a coward, but he couldn't bear to see her suffer. 

  She was an orphan. Hero was a small child when her parents weren't there anymore, but Hero either didn't know what happened to them or was unwilling to confess what happened. Roy didn't blame her. Wars and famine never killed anyone kindly.

  Their village was not a haven, but it was kinder than most. The temple protected them. If it wasn't for that temple, the village would have been ravaged like the rest of the countryside.

 

  It took time. He hadn't had a plan- improvisation was always more of his forte- and perhaps that was what made their relationship so natural. Roy gave Hero whatever food he could spare and wove her shoes while spinning stories of Echo, of Medea and Antigone. Her brown eyes would widen until they took up half of her face and she would begin to tremble whenever Roy put his heart into creating the villains and monsters of his tales. Antigone was Hero's favorite. All the great heroines died in their stories, and Antigone was no exception. Regardless, Roy still thought she was a good role model for Hero. A woman who knew the law of the Divine, the law that no man-made and none could break; Antigone fought for what she believed was right. Not for any man or to win a prize. It was a long story too- one that allowed Roy plenty of time to weave the shoes together. The streets were barely safe for Roy, let alone for a girl whose age he could count with two hands. He often complained about the trouble and how Hero could be an ungrateful brat, but he never stopped bringing her figs and sharing bites of bread. It was an exchange, Roy reasoned. Hero’s laughter brought music to his life, her excited imagination married thought to breath. She was his Muse; she gave him a meaning to life. So when Roy found where Hero slept (in what was little more than a glorified hole in the ground), he offered her a place in his home. She had accepted with enthusiasm and love outpouring from her little body, and then he understood. Hero cared too. They shared no blood, looked nothing alike, but everyone in the village knew they were a family in all the ways that mattered. And when Hero started calling him Uncle (once on accident, the rest purposeful), Roy thought it was so close to the truth that there was no difference.

 

  It was that familiarity, the love they felt that doomed them. Such a pure child, one that brightened his life with Apollo's rays in her smile, she could not exist in a world saturated with men's ambitions and greed. Hero was too bright. She was beautiful in a purely human way, the beauty of her soul was unmatched. The light inside of her was like liquid luck when she was happy. Though usually that luck was channeled into finding beetles and crickets, even when she brought them into the house Roy could do little more than sigh and tell her to keep them away from the kitchen. (Hero would reply that not even beetles would eat his cooking. Sometimes, she wasn't wrong.)

 

  But not everyone loved Hero. The priest in their village was overcome with jealousy and hatred for the child. His hatred was strong— too strong. When the moon bled crimson, the priest claimed it was a sign. Their god was angry. To save their village, the god must be appeased. A sacrifice would do the trick- it would allow them to live on. The needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few, and the sacrifice would not suffer. It was a blessing, the priest crooned. The soul of the sacrifice would be cared for, guaranteed. Then the priest gave the order. For the lives of all, Hero would join their god. 

 

  Roy could not deny him, nor could he allow Hero's story to be cut short by Hate's hubris. He had always been a coward, but he wasn't heartless. The day before the sacrifice, he left Hero at home and asked (begged, pleaded, cried) their neighbors to care for Hero while (when) he was gone. He had never been one for gifts, at least not without occasion, but he had to give Hero this. 

  He stood at the lip of the temple, bringing the few things he thought might please the god and his priest. An iridescent stone. Hero's old sandals. A glittering hairpin intended for Hero's coming of age. The god, he knew, dealt with the unseen and the intangible. There was worth in these things. Beauty. Nostalgia. Hope. The last was the most potent of the three. Even now, his desperation grew stronger and bled into the hairpin. 

 

  "What do you want, Roy?" The priest’s eyes gleamed cooly in the mid-day sky.

  "You know what. Let Hero go."

  "You really think that those trinkets will sate our Lord? You really are an idiot."

  "No. But it may allow for a substitute."

  "...You will take the girl's place?"

  "Yes."

 

 

  The next few hours passed by in a blur of color. His body was scrubbed and his blond hair cleaned of dust and dirt. He only awakened from his stupor when the sky's blue smearing into yellows and baby pinks, a thousand hues bleeding together in his retinas.The temple's interior- at least, in the room intended for sacrifice- had little more than stone steps and a single engraved headstone of marble. Dazed, Roy approached the headstone and pressed his fingertips to the symbols. He gently ran his fingers across the stone, memorizing each groove and edge of the letters. The marble was cold. His touch wavered as the stone sapped the heat from his fingertips. It felt so familiar, like a song he couldn't quite remember the name of. 

  He paused, then moved his hands to the stone above the lettering. The gem reflected and refracted the torchlight into dazzling colors. Emerald greens, pomegranate reds, and sea blues flashed across his eyes. The stone was warm against Roy's touch. Then with slow, careful enunciation, he spoke the engraved word aloud.

  "Magnus?"

  He never saw the knife gleaming behind him.


	2. Erebus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plan was to have three chapters and complete the legend in the second, but if I did that then this wouldn't update until June. There might be spelling and grammar is all errors, but please bear with me while I learn how to write again.

When Roy awoke, there was a pain in his head. That was probably from sitting up too quickly, but still, ow.  _ One step at a time, Roy. _

First step: setting. A bed. Sinfully soft, too. Beside him was water in an ornate clay cup and a bundle of crimson catchflies. His eyes lingered on the blood‒red petals for only a moment. 

A sip of water soothed his pounding head. WIth careful deliberateness, Roy got to his feet. Second step: self. Despite the dissipating headache, his heart was calm. His mouth tasted bitter. Next was his eyes. The world slowly stopped spinning the longer he stood, but the light still hurt. Though it wouldn't take much longer. A brief feeling of shame colored his cheeks.  _ Always skipping around in your stories. You really must slow down.  _

It was too warm to be dawn, but he just felt cold. The mosquitos were still buzzing around in the night sky. The air tasted different‒ thinner‒ and was absent of dust. Everything looked and felt so clean. As he rubbed his arm, Roy realized that that applied to him too for once. As Memory returned to him, a tightness settled in his gut. Hero. Cell was a wonderful woman and already loved Hero, but he still couldn’t help feeling anxious about Hero’s wellbeing. Who would comfort her with her favorite songs after a nightmare? Who would help her make little homes for her crickets and rolly‒pollies? Who would clean her cuts and scrapes to keep them from scarring?  _ Well, the answer is quite obvious. Miss Cell will. _ Even so, he would use that whip for emotional self‒flagellation regardless of the truth. Why was he so cold-

The light disappeared over the horizon, and with it Roy’s opportunity for exploration. The stars only highlighted the absence of moon in the sky Terror filled Roy from his toes to his cold fingertips and he felt like he couldn’t breathe or think or speak‒ he needed to get out. 

In the darkness, Roy wandered around blindly. After two less‒than‒spectacular falls, he felt a pair of cold hands bring him to his feet. 

“Shh…” The small sound tied his tongue and silenced any words he could have thought of. Even without sight, Roy could still feel the other scrutinizing him. He stayed very still, awaiting his fate. 

“Oh now don’t look so glum, my dear… you’re no prisoner, after all.”   
“I don’t understand,” His voice was rough from disuse, almost staticy compared to the clear tones of the other man’s voice. 

“You love that child very much, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question. “You are my guest.” 

“Guest? I must say I don’t quite deserve the honor.” When in doubt, go for flattery. 

The noise that escaped the other man wasn’t human, Roy thought. It sounded more like chimes or the clear cry of crystal when one ran their finger along the rim of a glass. It took Roy a moment to realize that the sound was a laugh. 

“An honor indeed. Tell me, what is your name?”

“It’s‒ it’s Roy…”

“Roy.” He heard the other man taste his name and didn’t know what to make of the feeling it gave him. “It’s a pleasure. You may call me Magnus.”

“It’s an honor.” The name left something ringing in his head‒ ringing like a scream or a whimpered sob. 

“Hardly, but thank you nonetheless.”   
“It’s no trouble, though I must admit I’m a bit puzzled. Where are we?”

“My home. I’m afraid you received a rather nasty gash on your way here, but it’s healed now. I must admit that you gave me quite a scare.”

“Gash?”   
“Yes‒ on your neck.”   
Roy’s hands immediately flew to his throat, searching for an abrasion or some sort of mark.

“It’s already healed. Don’t worry.”

“I… yes, but surely there must be-”

“A scar?”

“Yes. A scar.”

“Scars aren’t on the outside here. Although you may find some discoloration in the morning, you won’t see anything tonight.”

“Yes- I was wondering about that. Is there some sort of light? A lantern perhaps? I would very much like to see your face.”

Though the pause only lasted a moment, Roy could still feel the little eternities slipping through his fingers like the sand  in an hourglass. His anxiety rose in his throat.

“Only the morning sun. I will only come to you at night. But come, surely we two can entertain ourselves until dawn?”

Roy quickly found himself swept up in a philosophical debate. He didn’t have the same formal training or education, but through nights and eventually weeks of discussion, he was able to hold his own. Magnus told him he always had the capability, just not the vocabulary for their talks. Roy hadn’t the heart to disagree. Magnus discussed things in a way Roy had trouble describing- the closest word was “contradiction”. He was kind- compassionate in the same way the very old were gentle with children. Despite this, their conversations were almost sacrilegious in their honesty. Their science, their politic, their faith. Faith was a strange topic to use with a god, even with nearly a year of time to get used to it. 

“I’ve never been the most pious- you know that.”

“True, but piety is a hard attribute to define,” Magnus said softly. The wine was sweet on their tongues, but it left a cloying bitterness on the back of Roy’s throat.

“Oh? Your priest would say that the pious man is the one that fears the gods. I will admit, I have been such a heretic as of late.”

Magnus dismissed the thought with an unseen wave of his hand, but Roy could hear a small bit of fluster in the god’s voice. 

“If fear is piety, then every child is a saint as soon as night falls.”

“Not every child.”

“You weren’t afraid of the dark?”

“I was- goodness, I still am. But no, not every child.”

“...Your niece?”

“She said she wasn’t, at the very least,” He dropped into a falsetto, “‘It’s not the dark that’s scary. It’s what’s in the dark.’”

“Clever girl, isn’t she?”

“She would be, if she didn’t use her cleverness for tricks,” Roy sighed, “but she’ll grow up to be a remarkable adult.”

“You’re worried about her, aren’t you?”

“Of course. She’s a child.”

“Do you want to see her?”

“Of course. I want to make sure she’s alright.” Roy had agonized endlessly during the winter months. Was she eating properly? Was she warm enough during the nights? Was she still alive?

“You understand you cannot stay for long- an hour or two at most.”

“Any time is time enough.”

“Next week, then. You put a lot of stock into family, don’t you.”

“Don’t you?”

“Not really, no.”

“...I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

“Don’t apologize. I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Even so. It must be rather lonely.”

“Not at all. You’re wonderful company.”

“A year is nothing to eternity.”

“We measure time differently- we’ve discussed this, Roy. Every moment with you is enough to fill decades of boredom.”

“Boredom?”

“I have priests, priestesses. I have never been truly alone.”

“But have you brought anyone else here like you have with me?”

“Jealous?”

“Oh yes, I am the most envious of lovers you’d ever see.” When Magnus didn’t answer, Roy thought he might have gone too far. “In all seriousness though, worship isn’t the same as company.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“...”

“You’re the only one.”

“Come again?”

“You are the only one I’ve brought to my home.”

“Oh.”

Magnus made that humming sound that reminded Roy of ringing glass.

“I’m honored. And I’m glad I could help abate the loneliness, even for just a moment.” He patted Magnus’ arm before the other stole away into the dawn.

A week did not leave much time for thought, but sleep did not come easily even on the best days. Roy aimlessly stared at the ceiling and watched the daytime shadows flicker across the white marble. Breathe in… breathe out… breathe in…

__ _ Roy laid back against the tree’s roots and “watched” Hero play. The only thing he really watched was the inside of his eyelids, but the sentiment was still there.  _

__ _ The sunlight filtered through the trees with a lazy slowness that seeped into the bones. Wind kept him cool. In the distance, Roy could hear Hero’s laughter floating through the air to him. It was only when her padding footsteps ended with a child in his lap that Roy opened an eye.  _

__ _ Hero grinned. _

__ _ “And what, pray tell, was so pressing that the great Hero needed to stop her adventure?” _

__ _ “I found something!” _

__ _ “That something better not be another spider.” _

__ _ “It’s not…” _

__ _ “Or a beetle.” _

__ _ “It isn’t.” _

__ _ “Or a newt-” _

__ _ “Just give me your hand!” _

__ _ “Alright, alright. Honestly though, newts do  _ **_not_ ** _ belong in cookware-” Whatever it was, it was cold. It was slimy. It was breathing.  _

__ _ … _

__ _ Frog.  _

__ _ Roy most certainly did not shriek and definitely did not immediately drop the creature- _

__ _ She was laughing at him.  _

__ _ “Oh yes, it’s all very funny isn’t it? Some frogs are poisonous, you know, and it’s dangerous to handle the little beasts-”  _

__ _ “Mhm.” In her outstretched palm, rather than any manner of animal life or childish prank, was a tiny pink flower. It was no bigger than the nail of his forefinger and most of that size was taken up by the flower’s red base. The pink petals turned to pale white by its edges, and the result was a tiny thing just as goofy as the girl sitting on his legs. _

__ _ All of Roy’s anger flushed out of him, and Hero’s eyes twinkled as Roy took her gift into his hand. _

 

He awoke with a start, unsure when he managed to nod off. No matter, really, when the sun had already set.

“Ah,  you  _ are _ awake.”

He jolted up and directly into Magnus’ face. 

“Ow- what is your head made of? Rocks?”

“Close enough- you really gave yourself a knock, didn’t you?” He examined the growing bump on Roy’s forehead. 

“Yes, and I fear I may never be the same. My mental faculties will forevermore be lacking from this cruel treatment.”

“But your mouth seems to work just fine.”

“One hardly needs a brain to talk. Those without them seem to do an awful lot of it-”

Magnus kissed the offending bump.

“...Oh.”

“There. Isn’t that how you treat such injuries?”

“Don’t be obtuse, Magnus.”

“Would you rather I be a cute instead?”

Roy groaned as Magnus laughed.

“You  _ are _ teasing me.”

“Me? Tease you? I would never.”

“I don’t appreciate you making light of my terrible injury.”

“My apologies. You are being a tad over dramatic though.”

“I’m an actor. Over dramatic is my thing.”

“Even if you weren’t an actor, I’m sure it would still be a you thing.”

“Yes, of course. Now would you mind explaining why you were leaning over me- I’m getting up now, so please don’t stand close.” 

“You were mumbling something- I wasn’t sure whether or not you were awake.”

“I wasn’t. What was I saying?”

“Something about a frog.”

“Oh.”

“‘Oh’?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I have the time.”

Roy sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Alright, but you might want to sit down for it.”

Roy felt the bed dip as Magnus sat beside him, and he began the story. He could tell that Magnus was listening to him, but he hadn’t quite gotten used to confessing feelings to a shapeless figure. Before Magnus could comment on Hero’s mischievousness or Roy’s apparent fear of frogs, Roy once asked once again.

“There aren’t any lights here. You know that.”

“I hardly know what you look like. I know you can see in the dark- don’t try to tell me you don’t. I haven’t heard you trip once this entire time.”

“But I find myself falling for you regularly.”

More than ever, Roy wished that he could see Magnus’ expression. 

“Alright, come here,” Magnus’ voice was tinted with fondness. He gently took Roy’s hands and placed them on his face, humming a quiet note to himself. 

“I was never quite sure if you were being serious.”

“Of course I was. I thought you were just being dense.”

“The meaning was perfectly clear- the intent was not.”

“Well. Does this answer the question?”

“Yes, it does.” Roy brought Magnus’ hand to his lips.

 

_ The yearly spring festival always ended in “fertility rituals”, but the mornings were tame enough to bring a child. Hero demanded to see “whatever you’ve been working on all winter”, and while he normally refused the moment she crossed from asking to commanding he understood her frustrations. Through time, Hero had slowly grown more comfortable with relying on Roy. Never to the extent that normal children relied on their parents, but Roy thought that expecting that was an insult to her intelligence. But there was a difference between this and her usual demands. It was what she didn't say out loud- the way she always dragged herself out of bed early so they could have breakfast together, or always made sure they had fresh gillyflowers on the table, or (attempt) staying up late so she could greet him when he came home. It was only when she succeeded staying awake and nearly knocked him over with a hug that he realized she needed him.  _

_ He needed her too.  _

_ After some time had passed at the festival, he was honestly surprised that Hero hadn’t already run off to join the dancers or just explore. But when she slipped her hand into Roy’s and made him sit, he understood that she was trying to make up for lost time. He watched her make a flower crown and wondered what he did to deserve Hero.  _

_ “I won’t be able to wear it at the performance, you know. I’d hate to disappoint you.” _

_ “That’s okay! I’ll wear it while you act so you’ll know where I am. Who are you playing again?” _

_ “That’s a secret, dear one. You’ll just have to be patient.” _

_ “You just want me to guess who you are.” _

_ “Only a little. You know the story.” _

_ “I do?” She perked up. _

_ “You do. And rather well.” _

_ “I don’t want to guess then. It'll really be a surprise!” _

_ “Be careful not to prick your fingers.” _

_ “I won’t- I’ve made flower crowns with  _ just _ roses before you know!” _

__ _ “Bt it’s more dangerous with only some. Instead of all the stems having thorns, it’s just a few-” _

__ _ “How is only a couple more dangerous?” _

__ _ “It’s easy to see the danger when you’re expecting it, but when-” _

__ _ “Ow!” _

__ _ “Let me see. Ah, just a scratch- you’ll be fine.” _

__ _ “Mh. What about the danger?” _

__ _ “When the danger isn’t constant, you can grow careless. And that’s when the danger strikes.” _

__ _ “But what if there isn’t any danger?” _

__ _ “Pardon?” _

__ _ “What if you’re somewhere that really is safe? Somewhere that has no danger?” _

__ _ He thought for a moment. _

__ _ “Then you absolutely must stay on guard. You don’t want to be caught unprepared.” _

__ _ “...” _

__ _ “What is it?” _

__ _ “I think it’ll be okay. ‘Cause even if you’re not prepared for everything, as long as you have someone else there then you can watch each other’s backs.” _

__ _ “Yes, that’s a good way of looking at things.” _

__ _ Roy saw their company leader coming to call them in.  _

__ _ “It looks like it’s time. Be sure to come see the plays, alright?” _

__ _ “I’ll be there!” _

__ _ Roy patted Hero’s head, then went to prepare for the performance. Tragedy was difficult, especially with a child, but she had seen so much already. To try to shield Hero from the terrors of the world would be to erase her struggles and minimize her growth. The world was filled with evil and monsters, but she was a hero.  _

_ “‘Let it come, _

__ _ Let death come quickly, and be kind to me.  _

__ _ I would never see the sun again.’ _

__ _ ‘All that will come when it will; but we, meanwhile, _

__ _ Have much to do. Leave the future to itself.’ _

__ _ ‘Then do not pray any more: the sky is dead.’ _

__ _ ‘Lead me away. I have been rash and foolish. _

__ _ I have killed my son and my wife.  _

__ _ Whatever my hands have touched has come to nothing. _

__ _ Fate has brought all my pride to a thought of dust.’ _

__ _ ‘There is no happiness where there is no wisdom; _

__ _ No wisdom but in submission to the gods. _

__ _ Big words are always unpunished,  _

__ _ And proud men in old age learn to be wise.’” _

__

__ _ When Roy found Hero’s crowned head again in the crowd, he saw her crying. He felt a pang in his heart and went to her as soon as he could. Hero wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her face into his stomach.  _

__ _ Without a word, he smoothed back her hair and led Hero home.  _

__ _ “I like it better when you tell the story.” _

__ _ “Why’s that?” _

__ _ “Because then you play everyone, and I know you’re not going to disappear. You can’t die, even if everyone else does.” _

__ _ He squeezed Hero’s hand. _

__ _ “Don’t leave. Please.” _

__ _ “I won’t, Hero.” _

 

Their conversations didn’t change with their relationship, much to Roy’s relief. He had feared that if (when) they took that step, they would run out of things to talk about. But as their nights progressed, the only thing that would change was the casual sort of affection that Magnus had (enthusiastically) told him was fine. Holding hands, or leaning against each other while they talked- they were small, but important steps. It was a reminder that they weren't alone anymore. That they couldn't just disappear into thin air without anyone knowing- or at least if they were going to disappear, someone would miss them. One particularly memorable evening was spent on the floor, facing each other in silence. It wasn't as if Roy has forbidden them from speaking, but it would have ruined the moment. He spent a good portion of the night just tracing the curves and dips of Magnus’ face, the closest that he could get to seeing the other. He could feel Magnus’ heart pound every time he rested his fingers against a pulse point, and it was a little gratifying to know that  _ he _ was the cause even if Roy's own pulse had been quiet since he came here. 

The third night before he was supposed to meet Hero, Roy played with Magnus’ hands. He alternated between holding them, interlinking their fingers, and just feeling how they could move. 

__ “It's odd, you know.” 

__ “What is, Magnus?”

__ “Watching you move around with your eyes closed.”

__ “Ah. I can't see anything anyway, and closing them makes it easier to feel everything else.” 

__ “Do you stay awake for a while during the daytime? To give your eyes something to look at?” 

__ “Not for that reason, but I suppose it amounts to the same thing.” 

__ “What do you mean?”

__ “Readjustment, that's all.”

__ “You have trouble sleeping?”

__ “A bit, but that isn't unique to switching schedules.” He craned his head up, making a point to open his eyes. It was just as dark as keeping them closed, but still. 

__ “What causes it then? Bad dreams?” 

__ “I can't really say I've had a nightmare in a while.”

__ “Do you dream at all?”

__ “Sometimes. I don't like to. What about you?” 

__ “I don't need sleep.”

           “Right. You really ought to tell me just how you work physiologically-wise. Or is it all because of that thing?” Roy waved away godhood as if it was a passing illness, or else he would fall back into fear. 

__ “A lot of it is because of 'that thing’.”

__ “But you eat.”

__ “I can eat, but I don't need to. Just like sleep.”

           “That’s odd.”

__ “Maybe, but it's how I've lived all my life.”

           “And that's good enough, I suppose.” He went back to examining Magnus’ hands with his touch, warmth seeping into his voice. 

__ _ “ _ You’ve never told me about your life, though.”

__ “I have. I talk about it all the time.”

__ “Only after you met that niece of yours. I doubt that you emerged from the Earth as a permanently grumpy and fully-grown man.”

__ “I resent that.”

__ “Do you have any family besides her?” 

__ The one thing that Roy could say was that Magnus knew exactly what issues to shine a light on. 

__ “Not any that live near here.”

__ It was enough of an answer that Roy knew he was being evasive, but Magnus didn't push the issue. He wondered how much the god had picked up on from that alone, but fear kept him from expanding or confessing all. It wasn't a fear of Magnus, but rather a general fear of how terrifyingly real he was. Existence meant the possibility of being destroyed, even if that destruction was wrought by someone so familiar that he could describe in detail how they would do it. It was the same pain he was sure Magnus felt from eons of loneliness.

__ “Do you talk with the other gods and goddesses?”

          “Only as much as necessary. I don't find their squabbles very worthwhile.”

__ “What did you do then, during all this time?” 

__ “I raised birds.” 

__ Roy blinked. 

__ “Yes, birds. The hummingbird is my favorite creation.”

__ “I suppose they have nice colors- but really? Birds?” 

         “Why not? They can sing, and it's nice to fly with them.” 

         “You can fly?” 

         “Float, really. I do it all the time.” 

         “You do realize I can't see you.” 

        “...right.” Magnus made the embarrassed ringing sound again.

        “I've been meaning to ask,” he offered Magnus the subject change with a smile,      “how do you make those sounds? The bell sounds, I mean.” 

         “It's another ‘thing’.” 

         “A 'thing’ thing or a you thing?” 

         “...a me thing. But it's always been like that, so it's essentially the same. Here?” Magnus placed Roy's hand over his heart and hummed in that inhuman way. It wasn't quite a vibration like that caused by a voice. It was constant, rather than oscillating. 

         “...”

        “What is it?” The humming stopped.

        “You’re purring.” 

        “I am  _ not _ a cat.” Roy laughed at Magnus’ indignance.

      “You share quite a few traits though. Warm, purrs, pretends to not like affection while secretly loving it,” he counted off the similarities like compiling a shopping list, “not to mention your propensity for sneaking up behind people.” 

        “If I'm a cat, then you’re a fox.”

         “And why's that?”

         “You scream whenever something unexpected happens.” 

         “That's hardly a reason to call someone a fox.”

        “There’s also the fondness for making little burrows out of blankets, and the hesitance with new people. And you're foxy.”

          “Somehow I knew you would say that,” he deadpanned. 

         “That was a good one and you know it.”

          “Hm,” Roy couldn't hold back his smile, “Sure.” 

          “Foxes also live alone if they aren't raising their kits.” 

          “Do they?”

          “Did you live with anyone before Hero?”

          “Not really, no.” 

 

_          It was always a cause of panic for Roy. He'd never had children of his own, and he could hardly remember what his own parents fed him. He couldn't go up to another parent without seeming suspicious, but it wasn't like Hero could continue to subsist off of her beggars diet and gods knew that what he ate wouldn't be good for her either-  _

_          Miss Cell was less than pleased when he knocked on her door the crack of dawn was an odd time, sure, but she was awake anyway do it didn't matter too much.  _

_          “Thank the gods I am at my wit's end-” _

_          “Couldn't have been very long in the first place, showing up like this,” she hobbled back into her house, “Well, no sense in having you standing outside like.”  _

_          “Thank you- I'm sorry for coming to you in such a state.”  _

_          “Enough of enough of that- what troubles you?”  _

_          “You know the girl in the marketplace? About this tall, short brown hair?” _

_          “The skinny little thing? Yes, what about her?” _

_          “I've been caring for her. That's what I wanted to ask about.”  _

_         “Caring for children?”  _

_         “Feeding them, actually.”  _

_         “Feeding children? It's the same as a healthy meal for an adult, only smaller.”  _

_         “…” _

_         “…I don't know how you've managed to survive this long.”  _

_        “The feeling's mutual.” _

_        “Well, let's get to the kitchen. This is going to be my whole day, isn't it.” _

 

        “If you don't need to eat, how did you learn to cook?” 

        “Observation. And I had plenty of time to experiment- cooking is science, after all.”

        “You enjoy science?”

        “Very much so. It's an interesting way to pass the time.” 

        “...You never cease to surprise me.” 

        “That's good- I'd hate to become predictable.” 

         They spent the next while invested in their food, sitting in companionable silence. Roy hesitated before speaking again.

       “Is everything set for the visit?” 

       “Yes. Are you finished?” 

       “With the food? Yes.” He thanked Magnus as the other took their dishes away. He would offer to take them, but… well, he still wasn't sure where the kitchen was. After a moment, Magnus returned and rested his head in Roy's lap. With a familiar ease, Roy carded his hands through Magnus’ hair. 

           Magnus’ face was strange. Not the shape of it, no, but the texture. It was yet another thing that Roy just chalked up to godhood, but it still always made him pause for a moment. It was warm, Magnus wasn't a corpse, it felt more reflective than internal. It was like he was a sunbathed rock that was baked from summer's heat rather than from the heat that burned humans from the inside out. His skin was tough, but not calloused. It was more that his face was carved and smooth. A marble statue made in pursuit of perfection. 

           If anyone was perfect, it'd be Magnus. 

          Yet there were so many imperfections that made him a person. The distance from humanity, the way he didn't really care about anyone that was directly linked to either him or Roy, and the refusal to let Roy see his face? Such oddities- ones he didn't quite understand- but accepted because they made Magnus himself. 

           A small part of him was glad there were these imperfections, or else the divide between him and Magnus would be too far to cross. 

          For all his godly perfections though, Magnus was not omniscient. He couldn't peer into Roy's mind- or if he could, he didn't. He didn't see the doubt that threatened to suffocate Roy with each labored breath. He didn't see how he agonized over every choice he made, wondering if there was a way that he could have kept Hero safe and happy but still have ended up with this warmth. Always, though, he shut the thoughts in the back of his mind and tried to focus on the future and on the now. Regrets were dangerous things, and they loved to feed on unsuspecting travellers. 

          “That's nice,” Magnus’ voice was little more than a pleased rumble from the chest, “Tell me a story?”

          “A story? Why?”

          “It's what you did before, isn't it? I want to see how you performed.” 

          “Alright, alright. Then…” 

 

_           Their garden had grown a bit more practical the next spring. They kept the flowers, of course, but now the two also had a small patch of vegetables and had planted a tiny apple tree near their house.  _

_          “It’ll be a few years before you can climb on it, Hero.” _

_        “I know! But it'll still be great because then I can climb trees right here at home!” she grinned up at Roy, “You should climb it with me, once it's big enough.”  _

_         “Noooo thank you.” _

_         “Why? Are you scared?”   _

_          “I'm too big for climbing trees now, Hero.” _

_         “You’re scared.” _

_        “There are so many things that could go wrong while you're in a tree.” _

_          “Like what!” _

_          “It could catch on fire, for instance. Or you could fall and impale yourself on the way down.” _

_         “Mhm, or the wind could blow away the tree while you're in it!” Hero’s imagination took hold as she started listing off other things that could go wrong, some real possibilities and some the wildest of ideas. But the subject was successfully avoided. Hero wasn't that easily distracted, Roy knew, but maybe she knew more than he thought she did.  _

 

         “What would happen in a world where you couldn't have nightmares?”

         The question was one that made Roy pause. He was once again leeching warmth from Magnus, always so cold in this house. Magnus was essentially a space heater during the nights. 

         “ _ Couldn't _ have nightmares? Then…” He thought of science experiments and frogs, and a family of three walking home.

          “I think you would see memories. Or dream such sweet dreams that life seems like a nightmare.” 

         “That's depressing.” The words were spoken in jest, but Roy could hear Magnus’ concern hiding beneath it. 

         “Not really. It's what you would have instead of nightmares, not the only thing you would dream of.”

         “But still. A memory taking the place of a nightmare means that the memory couldn't have been good in the first place.” 

         “Maybe, but without bad memories the good ones have no weight.”

         “Yes, yes, the meaning of human existence. Measuring experience through hardship.”

        “What do you think, then?” Roy was almost amused with how aloof Magnus presented himself to be.

         “I think we would be trapped in a never-ending world of nothingness. Unable to think or see anything.”

         “You think we would float around in oblivion?”

        “Absolutely.”

 

         Roy didn't sleep the day before he was meant to see Hero, or the day before. Nerves, maybe, but not for the confrontation. When Hero wasn't there, she did not exist. She could be anything or anywhere that Roy thought she might be. That wasn't always a good thing, but the horrible fates she had met inside his head could be discounted as fiends of fantasy. But when confronted with reality, regardless of how okay she probably was, it was still terrifying. 

         “Are you ready?” Magnus asked him with a smile in his voice.

 

         Roy thought of his life before Hero-

 

_          He'd waste his life on drink, if he thought he'd be able to get somewhere before running out of money. There wasn't any real point in that, and he already had enough unfinished business as it was. He was too much of a coward to try any of the fast methods- or rather he was afraid of the pain that a knife or rope would bring.  _

_ “I really am pathetic.” _

_ Tomorrow was another day. _

 

        -and after. 

 

_           She'd been over at Cell’s more often than not as of late, and he knew that Hero was up to something. It was only when she shoved a cloak into his hands with a “Happy birthday!” that he knew that the only thing that separated them was blood. _

 

         “I'm ready.”

 

         Magnus pressed his hand over Roy's heart and pushed, then he was falling and falling-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catchflies- I fall victim, snare  
> Gillyflower- Happy life, contented existence
> 
> RGB's performance comes from Antigone and is the last few lines before the play ends. While Antigone is the last in the Oedipus cycle, it was the first play written and features a version of Creon that is much more accessible.


	3. Thanatos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has strayed far from the source material (both the legend and the comic), but the next chapter should return more to that.

           He wished he could say that he passed out. He had been keenly aware of every movement in his body and was far more familiar with his internal organs than he’d ever wanted to be. Not only that, but he’d expected to at least have the dignity of standing when he returned to earth. He tried to sit up.

           “You’re alive!” 

           And was knocked down again as Hero tackled him in a hug. For a moment, Roy couldn’t do anything other than hold her against his chest. She was still so small, but she was here and she was alive and  _ how could he have left Hero- _

           She was crying again. Roy sighed and pressed his lips against the top of her head with all the tenderness afforded to a newborn baby. Even then, he could feel each second pass from the rapid beating of his heart- it almost hurt to feel. 

           “I’m here. I can’t stay long, but I’m here.”

           “Where were you?”

           “I’m… not quite sure.”

           “What?”

           “I was with Magnus. The god of the temple.”

           “You were with a  _ god _ ?”

           “Yes. And he’s… not what I was expecting. Less “fear me mortals” and more “how many objects can I stack on a sleeping person’s face”.”

           “... Huh.”

           “Yes. But enough about that- look at you! You must have grown an inch since we parted.”

           “Mhm.”

           “Hero…”

           “Mhph,” she nuzzled Roy’s chest and just sort of sat there. Roy just sighed and let Hero recover. She didn’t know he was coming- how could she? He rested his hand in her hair and picked Hero up.

           “Which way is the house?” 

           “That way.”

           “Alright then.”

           They walked in silence, listening to the crickets chirp. It was a warm night- too warm, really. He felt like the flesh between his bone and skin was burning- now he really was being overdramatic. There were more pressing matters.

           “I really can't stay long- have you been eating properly? Has Cell been looking after you?”

           “Mhm. I help out at her shop, so she makes sure that I have everything.”

           “Good.” He could see Hero hesitating, and simply waited for her to gain courage.

           “...did you really leave because of me?”

           “What?”

           “That was what the people in town said. That you left because I did something bad.”

           “No, Hero. Not at all- don't cry, it really wasn't because of you.”

           “Then why'd you leave!”

           Roy sighed and looked up at the stars.

           “It… if I'm going to tell you, you need to listen to the entirety of what I say, alright? If you only listen to part, you won't understand.”

           “Okay. So why did you leave?”

           “For you- ah, now listen. It wasn't because of you. You didn't do a thing wrong, but this was the only way. You near understand that.” 

           “The only way was for you to disappear for a year? And let me think you were dead?!”

           “I wasn't expecting to be able to see you again, Hero. But I'm not dead- and I'm glad you're not either.” Roy watched as the words died on Hero's tongue and coiled back up in her throat. 

           “I've missed you.” 

           “I know. I've missed you too.”

           She stuck to him like a barnacle, even after they’d return to their little home. Roy lit the lantern and let Hero sit in his lap as they talked. The shadows flickered with the flame’s dancing. Hero stared at his chest for a moment, then just curled up to Roy’s form. 

           “What is it?”

           “Nothing.”

           “...I saw the new bushes outside. What are they?”

           “Miss Cell said that they were wormwood and amaranth… someone gave me a little cypress tree to plant too.”

           “Ah.” He tightened his arms around the child.

           “It’s not all bad. But…”

           “I would never leave you forever, Hero.” She bit her lip but didn’t say anything.

           She asked Roy nearly a hundred questions about his life with Magnus- and Roy got the feeling that she was interested in how he was coping without her. Badly was probably the correct answer, and he was honestly glad that she was handling it better than him. If his comfortable life was the worse of the two, then it meant his sacrifice was worth it. 

           They took turns talking about how they’d been since their separation, and then Roy saw the emotional toll his separation took on the child. That was all, thank goodness, but it was a toll nonetheless. But she’d taken her time to mourn. He was sure that Cell made sure she went through each stage and understood how to deal with the feelings properly, even if it wasn’t ideal. It was after about two hours that he felt light- far lighter than was healthy. Hero was yawning and rubbing her eyes, even if she was trying to hide her tiredness. He tucked her into bed and made sure she was comfortable when Roy heard a voice. 

           “Did you have fun?”

           “Of course. I was glad to see that she was alright.” 

           “Good- and no troubles? No nausea or anything like that?” Magnus placed his hand on Roy’s chest.

           “No, nothing lasting.” he felt space fold around them and flow across his skin like rainwater. His feet found the familiar marble ground as his world was thrust back into darkness, and the lightness left his limbs. The moment Roy found his footing, Magnus moved his hand from the other’s chest to his wrist. 

           “May I?”

           “Of course.”

           Magnus enveloped Roy in a hug, smiling against the other’s cheek. 

           “I love you.”

           Roy choked and hugged Magnus tighter. Well- that wasn’t what he expected. Roy pulled away after a moment and smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. An idea took its time but made itself known in his head. 

            "You don’t need to sleep, but you can. Right?”

           “Yes, why?”

           “We should rest, then. Together.”

           “You were trying to avoid asking me to sleep with you, weren’t you?” Magnus laughed as Roy’s cheeks warmed.

           “Yes, but you had to go ahead and say it anyway.”

           “I’ll rest with you, then. Until dawn.”

           “Just dawn? Not through the day?”

           “...I don’t think you understand-”

           “No. I don’t. You’ve never told me, how could I?”

           “Let me explain. You’re a storyteller- what does the light always do?”

           “Reveals the truth- and allows divine intervention. It signals that everything will be alright.”

           “And more abstractly?”

           “It banishes the monsters.”

           “Exactly. So while it wouldn’t  _ banish _ me-”

           “Wait. Magnus, you aren’t a monster.”

           “Not in the strictest sense of the word, no.”

           “Then why?”

           “It’s easier to be me- like myself- without light. I can’t lose my heart.”

           “But you do in the light?...”

           “Sort of. If someone can see me- it’s part of the ‘thing’.”

           “...Do you have a blindfold?”

           “Pardon me?”

            "A blindfold. I won’t see you, then.”

           “...And you promise not to take it off?”

           “I promise.”

           “Very well, then. Come here?” Roy stepped forward and felt a strip of cloth slipping over his eyelids. Magnus tied it snug, but not uncomfortably. Then he cupped Roy’s cheeks and kissed him softly. 

           “There we go…”

           “Let’s sleep now?”

           Roy laid with his head against Magnus’ arm, forehead pressed against the other’s shoulder. Magnus was so warm, always was in this world. Roy’d teased him about it once, about only visiting at night so they’d have an excuse to be close. Magnus had put on his usual charm and agreed, but not Roy just felt guilty. Being a monster… if Magnus was a monster, then he was too. 

           Magnus offered to send Roy back more often after that, and soon his visits became regular. Every full moon, Roy would spend the night with his niece and return to their home just before dawn. Sleeping together became regular along with it, and Roy found that the dreams of guilt and sorrow slowed before stopping altogether. It wasn’t ideal- he wasn’t there to take care of the child he’d more or less adopted, and spent the majority of the summer asleep or unable to see his lover at all. But it was life. Maybe a little wrong, a little broken, but better than anything he could have asked for. Better than anything he could have expected. The lessons that he taught children through heroes and legends and lore hit harder now that he cared about seeing tomorrow. If they were a normal family, Roy had thought, this was what it would have been like in a few years anyway. Hero would go off and make something of herself, hopefully, visit when she had the time, and Roy would spend his days with Magnus. There was something off about that picture- and the idea of Magnus as a doting husband was so close to reality that he couldn’t stop laughing. Magnus was seriously worried until Roy shared the thought and then he was just as amused. 

           It was on one of those dreadfully short summer nights that Magnus pulled Roy close. Magnus placed the other’s hand on his arm while the other was held gently- as if leading Roy through a new area. 

           “Do you know how to dance?” 

           “Not in the dark. And not like this?” He could feel Magnus’ heart beating. The slow and steady rhythm felt like a lullaby.

           “Another time, then,” Magnus gently swayed Roy back and forth, back and forth, like the gentle waves of the sea. Roy was drowning in him. It was a bit frightening, the idea of completely giving himself up to one person. But even then, as the warmth of Magnus’ body and breath brought life to his cold limbs, he felt alive. As they swayed around the room, Magnus started humming and- oh dear god.

           “Did you pursue music? Ever? At all?”

           “No, why?”

           “I can tell.”

           “What do you mean, dear?”

           “You're having trouble carrying that.” 

           “The tune?” Magnus sounded almost scandalized.

           “If you could call it that.” Roy laughed quietly and hummed the chorus quietly, then encouraged Magnus to hum with him. They swayed together in a shadow of a dance to a tune of their own. Though their swaying stayed slow, Roy could feel Magnus’ heartbeat speed up while his own… his own- 

           He banished the thought and rested his head. Magnus’ shoulder, wondering to himself. Doubt was a strange feeling and he didn't want it. Magnus had been nothing but kind since the very beginning. Trust. That was the thing- Roy had to trust Magnus. 

           “What's wrong?” 

           “What do you mean?” 

           “You stopped humming, love.” 

           “I was thinking.” 

           “About what?” 

           “There's just been something- it's been bothering me for a while. I don't know, it isn't really something to worry about-”

           “Roy. I care about anything that bothers you.” 

           “Yes, but it's something that isn't worth mentioning.” 

           “Isn't worth mentioning, or is uncomfortable to talk about?” 

           “Both, I suppose.” 

           “Please?” 

           Roy sighed. 

           “...I haven't felt my heart beat. Not here, at the very least.” 

           “Ah. That.” 

           “Yes.” 

           “...Magnus?” 

           “Yes?” 

           “Why don't I have a heartbeat?”

           “...it's hard to explain.”

           “Try?” 

           Magnus placed his hand against Roy’s chest.

           “Do you remember the day you were sent here?”

           “Bits and pieces.”

           “What do you remember?”

           “Nothing concrete.”

           “But the uncertain…?”

           Roy hesitated.

           “I remember leaving Hero at Cell’s- and going to your temple. It’s all textures and colors after that.”

           “That’s probably for the best.”

           The swaying stopped.

           “Magnus.”

           “Roy, you must understand that if I had known he would do that-”

           “Magnus…”

           “Please. Please don’t talk like that.” Magnus was clutching his hand so tightly, it hurt.

           “I don’t blame you.”

           “Please.”

           “I don’t blame you, Magnus. That sort of ritual didn’t seem like something your style anyway.”

           “I’m glad…”

           “Magnus. I still want to know.”

           “Right, of course,” he cleared his throat, “The heart is important. Everyone knows that.”

           “The seat of intelligence, motion, and sensation- and?”

           “That’s exactly why. It’s the most important thing that you could give. So to sacrifice that- to give up the most important part of a person?” 

           “...I see.”

           “You’re not heartless. We both know that.”

           “Just… heart-less?”

           “Here- sit down.”

           Roy let himself be shepherded.

           “You’re not any less because of this. You gave your heart for Hero- if anything, that proves how strong you are.”

           . . .

           “Roy, I know it’s a shock, but you can’t let this get to you. Please.”

           . . .

           “Please, please just say something.”

           Roy intertwined their fingers and closed his eyes as his hand soaked in Magnus’ warmth.

           “It’s alright.”

           “Roy?”

           “It’s alright,” he repeated, softer this time.

           “I don’t understand.”

           “I’m here. Everyone I care for is alive and well, and that’s all I asked for. It’s all I could ask for.”

           Magnus pulled Roy close, but no kiss would fill the hole in his chest.

 

           The realization didn’t affect him most days. Roy resolved firmly not to think about it, but it was hard to completely ignore. It made sense when he took the time to examine it. His immune system had never been the greatest, and nearly two years of perfect health was suspicious even while in the company of a god. It made more sense when he didn't have any health to have. The most painful thing was the hesitation. Magnus was hesitant now- with his wording, with the issue, with everything regarding the stupid piece of meat that made him who he was. It was when Magnus tripped on the word “wholeheartedly” that Roy told him that that was enough.

           He never told Hero, though, and he used every trick in the book to keep her from finding out. It wasn't very hard, but it explained why his skin felt so hot every time Magnus weave whatever substitute that couldn't withstand the daylight on Earth.

           He had thought extensively about what he had given up so Hero could live, and thought that he had come to terms with it. He'd thought he'd lived because of Magnus’ disgust for human sacrifice, but that was only half true. He couldn't be angry though. Not at Magnus. 

           But the gods were easily angered. The priest neglected his duties to all, and the people had grown loose in their worship. Magnus did not care, but the others did. So they called up their archer- the god of medicine, truth, and prophecy- and had him rain his plague down on the village. One by one, the villagers fell ill. It started with a mild cough, then regressed to a wet and phlegmy hack. The victim would cough up bodily fluids until they drowned in their own blood. All of this passed within half of an hour, to the point where the ill hadn’t a chance to say goodbye to the ones they loved. Hero told Roy about the illness, and it worried him once more. Half an hour- if Hero was struck with plague, he would have no way of knowing for a month- unless Magnus told him. 

 

           Magnus.

 

           “I can’t interfere, Roy. It just- I can’t. There are rules.” 

           “I’m not asking you to save them all, Magnus! I’m not even asking you to save her- but she’s alone. I can’t let her be alone in a time like this.”

           “She’s been alone! She was alone far before you two met. Your Hero will be fine.”

           “How do you know that? How can you honestly tell me that you know she’ll make it out of this alive?” Roy nearly shouted. The worry bordered on hysteria- all for a child he saw for a few hours a month.

           “It’s- I know what’s going on. She’ll be fine as long as neither of us interferes.”

           “Then tell me, what exactly is going on?”

           “Pride! Pride of a pantheon that’s trying to hold on to whatever power they’ve got. She’s a  _ child _ , and it’s because she’s alone that she’ll survive. The only people that she would significantly influence are you and that shopkeep, and there are plenty of other people that would affect Cell more,” Magnus took a breath and returned his voice to a normal volume, “If you stay there, then you make her a target. You’re under my protection- and if you stay here, then she is too through implication.”

           “That doesn’t stop me from worrying.”

           “Of course it doesn’t. But there are forces that even I can’t change.” 

           “Can’t?”

           “Even gods aren’t free from consequences. Especially from other gods.”

           “And how’s that.”

           “The pain of separation.”

           “Are you saying that he would kill me if you interfered?”

           “He might. And I have no control over the realm of the dead.”

           “Then you can understand. Separating from Hero- that was painful.”

           “Not this again.”

           “Magnus, I’m serious-”

           “As am I! She’s alive, she’s well, and she has others looking after her. Apollo isn’t stupid, he knows you’re one of mine and she is one of yours. And whoever provokes the fight will have less of a chance of securing support.”

           “Is that what she is to you? A gamble?”

           “Of course not! It’s an assurance. The people you care about most will be unaffected. And if Apollo does anything to her, I swear to you that she’ll be fine by the time dawn turns to day.”

           “...You swear it.”

           “Yes.”

           “...Alright.” Roy sat down and collapsed in on himself. He felt so tired, so sluggish. 

           “...I’m sorry for raising my voice.”

           “It wasn’t your fault, Magnus.”

           “Regardless, I shouldn’t have.” Roy could hear the regret in Magnus’ voice and sighed.

           “I think you needed to.”

           “Come again?”

           “Shouting. It was probably the only way it was going to get through.”

           “Shouting isn’t a good way to resolve an argument.”

           “Maybe not. But you have a point- you know Apollo better than I.”

           “...Yes. But I can understand your concern. It’s hard to have a personal relationship with someone you haven’t met,” Magnus paused, “And I haven’t cared for anyone as much as I have for you.”

           Roy took Magnus’ hand into his own and squeezed it.

           “We’ve never really fought like that before, have?”

           “No, I suppose not.”

           “We really are a married couple.”

           “Oh? And why’s that?” That was better. It was so much easier to simply get along with Magnus- and it was difficult to argue. It hurt to fight, even if it was something that he cared about so much that he would’ve carved out his own heart for. It hurt even more since Magnus was right. But that didn’t make him wrong either.

           “Because bickering is part of the package. But so is getting through it.”

           Magnus squeezed Roy’s hand back.

           “We’ll get through this.” 

           They didn't talk about it again, at least not as directly, but they reached a sort of understanding. They would continue things as normal, but with more visits to Hero. The only way to guarantee that she was still alright was by checking on her. Once a month was not enough for that. 

           Roy was never more pious than he was in those weeks. He didn't know if his prayers went to the vengeful god or to the one that slept by his side every night, but it didn't matter. He prayed for safety- safety for Hero, for himself, for Magnus. It didn't matter that his lover could bend space and light around himself with the same amount of effort that it took Roy to lift a pinky. If it changed anything in the smallest amount, then it was worth it. 

           Magnus’ reaction to his blindfolded midday prayers was even more ambiguous. The other always appeared to be sleeping whenever Roy whispered his mantras, but there was no way of knowing for certain. And there were off-color remarks that didn't make sense…

           It didn't matter. He'd given his heart for Hero’s safety in life, and Roy didn't know what more he could give for her continued safety. All he could do was pray to keep her safe and visit her to check that she was still alright. 

           But it wasn't enough.

           The last of his visits began as normal. Magnus had pushed him back down to earth and he met with Hero in the field near their home. She was a bit less energetic than normal, but he'd also come by later. She should have gone to sleep ages ago, but they'd planned this meeting and she wouldn't give up as easily as that. He thought she might have a cold- after all, Hero was always cuddly when sick and tended to run hot. She breathed easier in his arms anyway. 

           The coughing left him worried. Each hack wracked her shoulders in a wretched way, and her forehead was sweaty. He would have gotten Cell if he thought she could help, but Hero got worse and worse whenever he tried to disentangle her from his arms. Quickly, he lifted Hero up and ran outside.

           Magnus was already waiting for him and held Roy's upper arm firmly.

           “We need to leave.”

           “This isn't the time- she needs help!”

           “She'll survive, just come with me!”

           “How?!”

           “Dawn is coming! We need to go, just- we'll come back for her.”

           “I won’t leave her- she won’t survive!”

           “Roy, don’t you be stupid- just  _ come with me _ !”

           “Don’t you be heartless!”

           The sun rose, and for a moment everything was still. For a moment, for the flash of a second, he could see Magnus' face. He knew that face. Every curve, every wrinkle and every line he had memorized in their darkened world. Handsome, surely, with one golden eye. In his right eye socket was a gem- some sort of stone that refracted the light into dazzling colors from all across the rainbow. Hardly a monster at all. 

           Maybe not a monster, but anger- no, not anger. If Magnus was angry, then Roy doubted he would still be conscious. With one smooth motion, he held his hand above Hero's chest. Light pooled against his fingertips, then sluggishly dripped from his palm like liquid life. Each drop revealed a bit more of a golden arrow sticking out from Hero’s chest. With the same hand, he pulled out the arrow with a sick squelch. 

           Despite the scene painted before him, Roy couldn’t focus. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, but the air entered and left his lungs just fine. There was an unnatural warmth spilling from his chest and down his stomach, pooling in his legs and-

           Magnus pressed a small prism into the wound. Within moments, it healed shut and left Roy dizzy.

           “Heartless…” Magnus tasted the word with a disappointment that left Roy cold all over again. “You're right. I don't have a heart. I gave it to you.” 

           As Hero's breath returned to her, he turned away from the two. 

           “Magnus- wait, please-” 

           “Love cannot exist without trust. I was a fool for doing both.” 

 

           Dawn fell over the land, bathing everything in the harsh morning sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wormwood- Absence  
> Amaranth- Hopelessness  
> Cypress- Mourning
> 
> RGB quotes Aristotle's theory on the human soul, which says that the heart is where everything important happens. It has the soul, holds the capability for thought, etcetera. The brain and lungs were supposedly just cooling vents for the heart.


	4. Hypnos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus it's done. Let me know what you think or if you have any other ideas for this couple through my Tumblr of the same name!
> 
> spicycronch.tumblr.com

     The plague came and went, never again touching Roy or Hero. Roy suspected that there was more to that than Apollo taking mercy on them; it seemed too simplistic, too easy of a solution. He could feel warmth in his bones where previously there was pain- but he couldn’t afford to dwell on it for too long. Hero was here- and this time, he wouldn’t leave her behind. 

     There wasn’t much for Roy to do anymore for Hero in terms of raising her. She was past the age where punishments besides a firm talking to really did anything. Nonetheless, she had his full support and all the love he could give, but there was something new that he hadn’t given before. His prayers. Magnus had said the gods were prideful- that it was all about stroking their egos. Roy kept that in mind as he prayed- prayed for safety, for happiness, for mercy. He’d never been so pious as he was now, but he only bothered a certain god on occasion. 

     Roy only ever asked Magnus for forgiveness. 

     There was never any reply. 

     But he reserved thoughts of Magnus for the night- nights they once shared. During the day, he couldn’t remember the past. There was simply too much to do. He wasn’t perfect, but Roy managed to scrape together a semi-decent life for Hero. He taught her to read and write and do arithmetic. He watched her come of age and move into the city. He saw her open her own store and was her first customer. She came back to the village every summer and a few days after the holidays. Roy was so proud of her and was glad that she’d made something of herself. 

     It meant that he was alone most of the time though. 

     He took his time with life now, spending his days at the temple more often. The priest picked to replace the one of Hero’s childhood- this one was a good man and one that Roy thought was a good match for Magnus. It hurt Roy’s heart to be in the temple. He didn’t mind the pain though, really. It was a reminder that he was still alive. Painfully, thrillingly, amazingly and exhaustingly alive. 

     The temple had a new meaning for him now. The priests and attendants regarded him with pity most of the time. Poor man, abandoned by husband and child. Roy tasted blood in his mouth on the shrine steps and grew dizzy after leaving every time. He was growing older, and for that reason, the new priest approached. 

     Trials, he had whispered. Trials to prove Roy’s dedication. What better way to prove his worth than through a quest? It would be hard- gods’ quests were always dangerous- but the reward… he couldn’t guarantee that it would be what Roy wanted. He couldn’t guarantee that Roy would see Magnus either. But it was an opportunity, and Magnus would see him. 

     Roy couldn’t help but agree. 

     The first task was to find the instructions to his quest. Roy didn't know what to expect, really, but he followed the priest’s advice. Seek out the Oracle in the deep reaches of the mountains. She was one of Magnus’ blessed- she knew what he would want more clearly than a mere priest could. 

     Roy spun the task as a fun little adventure- like the ones Hero used to imagine going on when she was young. But Hero was no longer a child, and knew better than to blindly believe. The look in his eye was enough. She couldn’t do much other than kiss his cheek and offer him a pack of supplies. 

     The mountains were rough and craggy and difficult to climb. With the weather and the strange birds that screamed and tried to throw him off the cliffside, it was easier to hide than try to endure their furies. He firmly kept his gaze towards the cliff and decided to not look down, no matter how tempting it was. Roy knew that the consequent terror would be his downfall‐ literally. He didn’t understand the need to live so high up either. What was it with gods and their mountains? Magnus had lived on a plateau, and the other gods lived on Olympus. Maybe it was a pride thing. They’d always be on top of the world, even when everything around them was falling apart. These thoughts entertained him enough to avoid looking at the ground far below and ignore the cold seeping through his clothes. The wind laughed at his struggles and whispered to him in a low, taunting voice. Oh...

_      Oh now don’t look so glum, my dear… you’re no prisoner, after all, _ Magnus comforted. That was a lie though, wasn’t it? There were far stronger ways to bind someone than by chains and ropes. Bound, maybe, but Magnus had never been his jailor. That made everything worse. 

_      Please, please just say something. _

     He spun around to meet the empty mist.

     “Stop pretending to be him,” he pressed his nails into his palms.

_      Pretending... _ the voice barely hesitated.  _ Did you really leave because of me?  _ Hero asked quietly. 

     “Leave her out of this!” he glared at the fog. 

_      Out of this… out of this…  _ The stones groaned back at him. 

_      What would happen in a world where you couldn’t have nightmares,  _ the mountains cooed.  _ You make her a target. _

     “That’s enough! That is not what he meant-” Roy cried out to the fog. 

_      Not enough…. What he meant… _

     The harpies found him all too easily, shouting as he was. Their sharp talons clawed his skin and tore his hair, screeching with vengeful laughter. He fought with his arms and stumbled back and back until the stone gave way beneath his feet and he fell down the cliff. He was rolling, rolling, rolling until eventually the world stopped spinning and everything hurt. His muffled sobs echoed in the endless mountains. 

     “What do you want?” He asked the voice. 

_      Want… _ the voice echoed softly.  _ What do you want?... _

     To find him. 

_      Really?...  _

     To apologize. 

_      Liar…  _

     Roy leaned against the stone walls, staring at his shaking hands. 

     “I want my family back.”

 

     Eventually, Roy found a little house at the edge of the peak and knocked gently on the door. His fingers were blue and unfeeling, but knocking still stung. 

     A short woman opened the door with a grin. 

     “Hello. Took your time, didn’t you?”

     “Ah, hello?”

     “Come in- don’t mind the mess.” The mess in question… there wasn’t one, really, but the inside of the house reminded Roy of Hero’s store. Organized chaos. This woman, with an amber glass eye and billowing robes, seemed like more of a caravan leader than an oracle. Or what he thought an oracle would look like. Well, it wasn’t like he could judge. 

     Madras, his heart whispered in an echo of another time. Her name is Madras. 

     She turned and fixed Roy with a look. 

     “Did you say something?”

     “I’m sorry- does your name happen to be Madras?”

     She nodded, her wide smile breaking across his lips. “So that’s how it is.”

     “Pardon me?”

     “No, nothing. You’re here for the tablets, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question. 

     “Tablets- yes, I am.” Whatever that meant. “I assume there’s a price for them.”

     “Of course. Don’t worry though, this won’t hurt a bit.”

     He watched her lift his wrist and pull it open, color spilling out from the vein. Bittersweet magenta, shades of pink and yellow filled a small vial, then another. 

     “There we are.” She placed the vials on the counter and pulled out heavy slabs of stone. They were chalky and left grey dust on Roy’s palms. 

     “So, storyteller. What will you do?”

     “I’ll complete the quest, of course.”

     “Really? Splendid! Then why don’t you get started.”

     The next thing Roy knew, he was in a poorly lit room filled with vegetables. There wasn’t any rhyme or reason to the way they were placed- rather, it seemed that they were disorganized specifically to vex him. Quickly, he read the first tablet. 

_      Aphrodite received her with angry countenance. "Most undutiful and faithless of servants," said she, "do you at last remember that you really have a mistress? Or have you rather come to see your sick husband, yet laid up of the wound given him by his loving wife? You are so ill favored and disagreeable that the only way you can merit your lover must be by dint of industry and diligence. I will make trial of your housewifery." Then she ordered Psyche to be led to the storehouse of her temple, where was laid up a great quantity of wheat, barley, millet, vetches, beans, and lentils prepared for food for her pigeons, and said, "Take and separate all these grains, putting all of the same kind in a parcel by themselves, and see that you get it done before evening." Then Aphrodite departed and left her to her task. _

_      But Psyche, in a perfect consternation at the enormous work, sat stupid and silent, without moving a finger to the inextricable heap. _

_      While she sat despairing, Eros stirred up the little ant, a native of the fields, to take compassion on her. The leader of the anthill, followed by whole hosts of his six-legged subjects, approached the heap, and with the utmost diligence taking grain by grain, they separated the pile, sorting each kind to its parcel; and when it was all done, they vanished out of sight in a moment. _

     Well, that was rather anticlimactic. He wasn’t a princess, and ants could hardly be expected to move full turnips. Time-consuming, maybe, and painful from his fall but it wasn't an impossible task. The end would be worth it. As he thought about meeting Magnus again his heart filled with warmth. He rubbed his chest with a small smile and began. 

     The entirety of the room was as big as a meadow, and the piles a full foot taller than Roy at least. There were vegetables and fruits of varying sizes and types in each pile, ranging from overgrown gourds down to tiny berries. Some were already smashed, though thankfully none seemed to be rotting. The smell would have tipped him off if nothing else, and the splendor of life was too strong for death. A pain, maybe, but he didn't know if he was really on a time limit. He didn't feel hunger or thirst while in the room- it was as if time didn't exist there. 

     As soon as he finished the trial, the room around him disappeared and he was alone on the mountainside. Quietly, he shivered and read the next tablet. 

_      Next morning Aphrodite ordered Psyche to be called and said to her, "Behold yonder grove which stretches along the margin of the water. There you will find sheep feeding without a shepherd, with golden-shining fleeces on their backs. Go, fetch me a sample of that precious wool gathered from every one of their fleeces." _

_      Psyche obediently went to the riverside, prepared to do her best to execute the command. But the river god inspired the reeds with harmonious murmurs, which seemed to say, "Oh maiden, severely tried, tempt not the dangerous flood, nor venture among the formidable rams on the other side, for as long as they are under the influence of the rising sun, they burn with a cruel rage to destroy mortals with their sharp horns or rude teeth. But when the noontide sun has driven the cattle to the shade, and the serene spirit of the flood has lulled them to rest, you may then cross in safety, and you will find the woolly gold sticking to the bushes and the trunks of the trees." _

     He knew better than to despair, and it seemed like this Psyche fell into depression every step of the way. He didn’t have courage necessarily, but it was impossible to hate himself like she did. The proof of Magnus’ love beat in his chest with every breath. 

     Roy slowly climbed down the mountain, taking care to not be spotted by the harpies. The weather by the riverbank was much easier on his bones than the biting cold of the mountains. By the time that he had come down, it was nearly nightfall. The water was dark from the night, and Roy dipped his fingers into the black stream. He rubbed the water against his wrist, washing away the pink scabs with a careful touch. But the water did not run off his wrist and into the river. Instead, it latched on to the magenta. The water traveled through his veins and ate up every last bit of love it could find until-

     Silence. 

     An empty canvas in negative. 

     The Oracle returned to her patron and pressed a vial into his limp hand. 

     Then there was nothing. 

     He awoke on the riverbank with a pressure on his chest. Startled, he lifted his head only to be met with the amber eyes and curling horns of the golden ram. His heart beat as steadily as ever, but he balled his fists and evened his breath. Panic wouldn’t help. Slowly, Roy sat up and telegraphed each movement. He pet the ram gingerly, but with feigned confidence. He could feel the ram’s hot breath against his chest, each huff sending a small storm against his skin. Eventually, it settled into his lap to sleep. Breathlessly, Roy ran his fingers through the ram’s coat and collected the stray bits of golden fleece. The animal awoke eventually and looked at Roy with one dark eye. Lightly, it pressed its muzzle against Roy’s chest and left the man alone. 

     He ran back to civilization before the ram could change its mind. 

     Strange, he thought to himself. The sun’s influence made the rams violent to mortals but that one was as calm as a lamb. The myth had been accurate enough so far, so it might have meant that Roy wasn’t… he was no longer…

     He killed the thought. No need to add hubris to his faults and the possibility was awe‐inspiring in a bad way. 

     He didn’t recognize the town he ended up in. The people were about as welcoming as most‐ polite but wary of the blond foreigner. Even so, there was a comfort in towns like these. Winding dirt roads, decently sized marketplaces. All familiar things. It was easy to charm a local into telling him where they were and how to get to Magnus’ temple. To his surprise, Roy was on the opposite side of the mountain from where he started. It would take at least three days to return, and he had some time to think about the next two tasks. Water from the River Styx, and then...

     He was to go to the Underworld. He’d need to ask Persephone for some of her beauty cream and not open the box, or he would fall into a never‐ending sleep. 

     One step at a time. He had to break these into steps, or it would be too much. But the tasks were dangerous and with less chance of success each time: it was meant to be that way. There was always the possibility that he’d never return, and… he didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye. He owed Hero more than that. Roy spent the travel time deliberating over how to approach the subject, but as soon as he reached her shop all his carefully crafted words flew from his mind. 

     She smiled and hugged him tightly, just as excitable as the child he’d forever see Hero as. She fawned over the fleece and invited him to stay for dinner- provided that he stay out of the kitchen. Roy laughed and agreed. Just one night wouldn't hurt… even as that night turned to two, then three. He couldn't lie to himself and say that he wasn't afraid. He'd be a fool to not fear dragons or Cerberus, and Roy didn't have the benefit of a godly patron to help with his tasks. It took him the entirely of those three days to work up the courage to ask Hero to prepare some honeyed barley for him. She'd given Roy a puzzled look but didn't bother to ask why. Quests were funny things like that and she'd come up with more eccentric objects in her mind’s eye. It'd be comfort food if he never returned, Roy thought and would be ready for his trip to Hades if he succeeded.

     The temple was just as the remembered it. Roy had to remind himself that it’d only been a week instead of the year it'd felt like, so of course the temple would still have its pillars and smell faintly of magnolias. He burned the offering on the temple's steps and watched the golden fleece face to a dull yellow in the fire’s flames. A bit smoky, but nothing he couldn't handle. The burned wool disappeared into smoke, and in the ashes laid a small glass bottle. The bottle would survive the Styx, even if he didn't. Really he had to stop thinking like that. Confidence, false or not, was key. If he didn't think positively, then who knew what would prey on his weaknesses. Roy picked up the bottle, his distorted self staring back at him. Well, here goes nothing. 

     The riverbank was infested with monsters and dragons. To retrieve water from the origin of the steam… the waterfall, he supposed. Great, the two most absolutely wonderful things in existence put together in an unholy union of rocks. He waited until the midday sun left the biggest beasts weak and sleepy, then crept closer to the falls. The crash of the water hid the sound of his footsteps and he filled the bottle as quickly as he could. Even with his feet on dry land, he didn’t like being so close to the ragings waters‐ let alone the streams that led to the Underworld. The water burned where it touched his skin. It ate away at his flesh and blood, consuming all that it could before evaporating into little more than pink mist. A shadow fell over his frame and turned the water black. He barely had the time to turn before a snake‐like creature struck. Roy nearly fell into the Styx, waving his arms about to regain balance. The water tore away at the flesh of his hand before he managed to stumble back onto the rocks. The dragon could devour him whole and still have room for more. One eye was the size of his two fists put together, and its tongue was nearly the size of his arm. The snake‐like creature coiled itself into a circle around him, taunting and watching. It struck from the side, nearly taking out a chunk of Roy’s torso in the process. Bruised and battered as he was, Roy could hardly keep up with the monster’s movements. It kept striking, faster and faster, and closed in closer around Roy. It gave no warning before biting into his shoulder, driven by a thirst for blood. He jabbed his fingers into the creature’s eye and forced its head away. Roy groaned, leaning against the other end of the snake’s body. Walled in, poisoned… but with an idea. He stayed against the monster’s body, watching it carefully. It slithered, hissed at him and struck out-

     Only to pierce itself with its own poisoned fangs. 

     The creature screeched and reared up its head, giving Roy just enough room to escape. Poison, poison in his blood and a heart that wasn’t his own, and he was going to die before his prayers could be heard. And he was so close. Tears came unbidden to his eyes and seeped from his lashes. Even as his legs gave out and his body grew heavy, he still tried to crawl. He was so, so close…

 

_      You’re lucky, you know.  _

_           I could have just started over again… but that would have taken more effort. _

_                     And you’re not very heavy.  _

_      Just this once, mind.  _

 

     The first thing Roy knew was that he was in pain. His shoulder throbbed with every heartbeat and the bruises from the mountain had picked up right where they had left off. Screaming. The light was soft enough that it didn’t burn through his eyelids but insistent enough that he couldn’t just keep sleeping. He heard voices, happy and laughing voices that alternated between playful banter and genuine affection. Strange… 

     Pieces of memory slowly slotted themselves back into their places, and his eyes shot open then immediately closed again. Ow- bad decision. Roy took a deep breath before using his uninjured arm to push himself up and something vaguely sweet smelling fell from his chest. Once more and from the top, he reoriented himself. 

     The bedroom he was in was small but cozy and so full of life that Roy had no trouble in believing that whoever lived here had guests quite often. The clay bricks fit into each other to make a perfectly rectangular wall. In his lap lay what presumably had fallen when he got up. The flowers were white on the outside but pinker as they approached the center of the flower. The stems were woody and thin, barely able to support the weight of the bloom. The flower itself was nearly the size of his palm, and eventually, he recognized the flower as a magnolia blossom. Roy rubbed the soft petal between his fingers for only a moment, then tried his hand at standing. 

     He ended up needing that hand after all, only able to stomach leaning heavily against the clay wall. Whatever venom the snake stuck in him was effective. Not effective enough to render him dead, thankfully, but potent nonetheless. He crept along the wall with an almost painful slowness, stopping frequently to give his struggling heart a break. 

     So there are things that it isn’t immune to, Roy thought with an almost morbid giddiness. What would happen if he died before Magnus retrieved his heart? Would it keep beating, even as Roy’s body rotted around it? Or would Magnus die with him?

     Enough, his heart seemed to say. Roy had spent enough time with what ifs. 

     The house’s inhabitants caught wind of his lumbering, and Roy found himself face to face with a very tall and intimidating woman. 

     She stood at least a good half foot above him and stared with sharp eyes that seemed to cut to his very soul. He had no doubt that she could finish what the snake had started, but at the moment she seemed dissatisfied with the fact that he was standing. The woman kept her coiled hair back with a strip of cloth, though touches of grey at the temples betrayed years that weren’t apparent from her stature. Beside her was a significantly shorter woman with a kind smile on her face. Her eyes twinkled with a subdued joy and she didn’t hesitate to shake his hand.

     “Welcome back to the land of the living- we thought we lost you for a while there.”

     “Ah- did you...bring me back?” He didn’t know how else to phrase it and his head was still too hazy to make proper sense.

     “Yes. And you should back lie down if you want to stay that way.” 

     “He’ll be fine, Julienne. Besides, he’s probably hungry for answers. What’s your name?”

     “Roy. Thank you for your help, Miss…?”

     “Melody. And it wasn’t a problem.”

     Julienne pursed her lips and sent a meaningful look to Roy. Her gaze pierced his shoulder in a not-so-gentle reminder as Melody led him to their living room. For her part, Melody seemed content to hum a little ditty and fill the space with force of personality. Age had treated them well, it seemed, and despite the obvious wear and tear from living for so long Roy had little doubt that either of them- both of them- could give as good as they got in a fight. Despite the danger though, he hadn't felt this safe since before the sacrifice. 

     He stayed a week longer, recovering his strength and helping the two around the house. Despite her sharpness, Julienne was just as kind as her wife and would frequently rest her head on Melody's while the shorter played the lyre or sang. Roy wondered if this was what having affectionate parents was like- the faintly grossed out but content feeling was a positive one, he decided. It was while he was peeling potatoes with Julienne that he learned their story. 

     “We eloped some forty years ago. No one approved, of course, but we didn't care. We built this entire place up ourselves, but it was rough those first few years. I haven't regretted a second of it.” She dropped the skinless potato in the bucket. “We prayed to Magnus for protection before we left. That's why we recognized his mark on you.”

     “Is it really that obvious?” 

     “It is when you let it bleed all over the ground for the vultures.” 

     He spluttered out a defense while Julienne just looked at him with amusement. 

     “He kept us under his direct protection that first year. It was winter when we left, and Melody doesn't do well with cold.” 

     “Winter? Why then?” 

     “I was going to be married in the spring.” The potato hit the bottom with a dull thud. “You know how it goes.” 

     “... still, it's a rather romantic story. How did you two meet?” 

     Julienne had warmed up then and regaled Roy with tales of her and Melody's misadventures. There were plenty of stories, like the happy ceremony they'd had underneath the magnolia tree in their orchard or when they'd finally finished the house and started going to the town nearby. They didn't need anyone but each other, but there were some things that were easier with other people. If the villagers didn't like them then they were established enough to not have to deal with it. It was as close to paradise as earth could get, Julienne had said. And under the force of her conviction, Roy couldn't help but agree.

     He left them on a sunny morning, thanking them for their help and wishing them nothing but happiness. Julienne pressed the vial of black water into his hand and asked him to visit sometime, but Roy wasn't sure he'd get the opportunity.

     One task left, the story went. He would face the Underworld and its Queen. But… it wasn’t a challenge, then. He knew of the trick and wouldn’t be tempted like Psyche. The other tasks at least had that element to them. Organizing food was strenuous regardless of the type and mortal danger was always mortal danger. This, however… it felt familiar. He didn’t know why and wondered if he really wanted to know the answer. Or maybe that was the catch. Roy rubbed his wrist, right above the pulse point. Maybe he wouldn’t see Magnus after all since he hadn’t fulfilled the spirit of the quest. There were so many ways that it could go wrong, that his wish would be fulfilled but with a twist. Gods were like that sometimes, weren't they? He shook his head. Repentance… he’d thought of different ways to try, but there was little that would matter. He’d already pledged his death, and Magnus didn’t want his life. There had to be a way. Roy would find a way.

     The trip to Hero’s shop firmed his resolve. Everything was set in stone after that, quite literally. He’d written his will, though it held nothing especially strange or out of the ordinary. It was a formality so no one could deny Hero what was so obviously intended for her. Just because he knew the trick of the box didn’t mean that he would come out alive, and Roy was getting the feeling that he wasn’t coming back. Life with Magnus or failure in Hades, it had the same result. He wouldn’t see his niece for a very long time. It was when Roy hugged her tight and realized how tall Hero had become that the reality of his choices. 

     “You've really grown up.”

     Hero hugged him back tightly and gave Roy a tearful smile. She must've realized it too, Roy thought, but it was too late for turning.

     He would go to the Underworld.

 

     Roy placed the coins on his tongue and held the barley with both hands. There were faces beneath the waters, and each whispered a more pitiful tale than the last. An adolescent torn to ribbons begging for a better end. An old woman, abandoned by her family, who'd received no burial. His own cousin, pleading to see his face just one last time. Roy bit his tongue to keep from looking and blamed the metallic taste on the coins. Eventually,  _ finally _ , the boat stopped and one red-tinged coin appeared in the ferryman’s hand. His mouth felt lighter, and with a nod of thanks, Roy stepped off the boat. It wasn't that the Underworld was dreary or dark. No, it glowed with an iridescent light whose source he couldn't pin to one particular spot. The architecture was grand in a way that would be gaudy from any mortal. The castle was the most obvious feature of the entire place, though the land glowed with an eerie green light from all corners, and the inside was even worse. The high ceilings and black marble made him nauseous when he stared at one spot for too long. It was as if he was wading through a thin film of slime to reach the throne. 

     He reached the foot of the throne almost without noticing, and he quickly dropped to his knees out of respect. 

     “You're here for the Beauty.”

     Roy nodded. 

     “The last mortal I allowed to have a drop nearly killed herself trying to use it. What makes you think you will be any different?” she said boredly. She wasn't being unkind- rather, it was as if the goddess was only entertaining him on a whim. 

     “I don't intend to use it on myself, Lady Persephone,” he said quietly, unsure if the interest in the goddess’s eyes was good or bad. 

     “Then why come at all.” 

     “A trial, my lady. To see the one I love again.” Roy felt her curious gaze bidding him to confess, to tell all of his failures and successes and what his purpose was. 

     And Roy did. 

     The goddess stood from her throne, impossibly tall with a height that would tower over the most giant of men, and placed her hand on Roy's head with a mother's gentleness. 

     “Then go to him.” 

 

     Roy's stomach flipped and he nearly vomited from nausea that hit him like a ton of bricks, it was as if his heart was about to burst. When his stomach settled he found himself in the same land that he had spent his joy-filled nights in so long ago. Purple hyacinths were all around and he could smell magnolias in the air. The world was bathed in the golden light, and just a few paces away… was Magnus.

     He had faced death, faced its monarch, but it was different to stare your own demise in the face and make a  _ choice. _

     “I realized it. What you wanted so long ago, I mean.”

     “Oh? And what was that?” He never thought that Magnus, someone so aloof and grand, could seem so small. He seemed smaller and like a collapsed rib cage, his presence had caved in on itself. Roy approached the mockery of a throne slowly. 

     “Every time you sent me back- I know what you were doing. You never shared or admitted it, but I know now. It's only fair that you receive a response, even if it's late.”

     Roy pressed both hands against Magnus’ chest and  _ pushed- _

     “I love you too.”

     He smiled at Magnus, watching as the other slowly filled with life once again before his vision went dark.

 

     And Roy was happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hyacinth- Sorrow, Forgiveness  
> Magnolia- Dignity, Splendid Beauty


End file.
